A Soldier's Remorse
by daughter-of-Myou
Summary: Arcee mourns the loss of her fallen partner Cliffjumper, believing herself responsible for his death, but is consoled by a concerned Jack. One-shot.


'_You did everything in your power to save him, Arcee. If he were able, I am certain that Cliffjumper would thank you for that.'_

Easy for you to say, she sighed internally.

During the many stellarcycles that the Autobots had spent in this AllSpark-forsaken region of Earth, Arcee had learned to ignore the clouds of dry dust and sand that her vehicle mode's tyres kicked up as she navigated the desert roads of Jasper. She weaved forlornly between her fellow vehicles, holographic rider in place so as not to startle their human drivers, her processor uncomfortably distracted from the morning's task.

Cliff… the mere thought of his name brought a painful throb to the area where her throat should have been. Her entire chassis ached as she pictured his face; the mental image of her fallen partner grinned stupidly, teasing her, his sharp horns and crimson paint job glinting in the pale sunlight.

The first time she laid optics on him, Arcee had thought that he was a complete idiot. So brash and loud – wanting to charge in with all guns blazing when the two of them were supposed to be on a stealth mission. Maybe it was just because she had been on her own for so long… but there had been something about him that warmed the spark deep inside her chest. They'd fought side by side in the Great War, saving each other's skidplates more times than either of them could count, and had both ended up stuck on Earth as part of a ragtag team of Autobots after Cybertron finally succumbed to its wounds.

Arcee hadn't been overly keen on their dusty new home, but in attempt to cheer her up he'd said that the night sky was beautiful above the plains of the desert. It was a pick-up line if ever she heard one, but she didn't care. He hadn't been lying; she could remember the countless nights they had spent together under the stars, looking for Cybertron. They'd never found it, of course – Earth was simply too far away… but her spark told her that it had been time well spent.

She knew how she felt about him… but had never seized the chance to ask how _he_ felt about _her_ before – before. It was a question that haunted her far more often than she cared to admit. He must have felt _something_ for her, mustn't he? More than once, Arcee had found herself being rushed from danger in his servos – occasionally lacking one or two of her own. But that didn't necessarily mean that he… _loved_ her.

Arcee touched on her brakes and came to a quiet halt outside her destination. The Darby home was as clean and uniform as ever, garage door raised high with Jack already waiting inside. The human was leaning dejectedly against the bumper of his mother's off-white car, motorcycle helmet in hand. He perked up the second she came into view; he stepped out of the garage and slipped the helmet over his head, looking rather relieved to see her. Arcee disengaged her holographic rider, Sadie, after making the observation that there was no-one else around.

"'Bout time, Arcee," Jack commented in tease. He crossed the pavement toward her, before taking firm grip of her handlebars and swinging one leg over her frame. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me or something."

"If only…" she mumbled, distracted, as she waited for him to settle into his seat. Once certain he was secure, Arcee eased on her throttle and pulled away from the curb.

They drove without speaking for a while. Jack could sense that something was amiss; his sapphire-coloured guardian was never exactly talkative, but this time her silence felt different. Her complete lack of speech was unnerving, and she seemed to be riding a little more carelessly today – as though her thoughts were elsewhere.

It was only when they had passed his workplace that Jack felt compelled to instigate conversation. "Something on your mind?" he asked, attempting to sound casual.

"Nope."

"Oh," he stated simply, awkward. The sound of rushing wind filled his ears for a moment, as he internally debated whether or not to continue. "I was just wondering 'cause, you know, you seem a little…preoccupied."

"I'm fine."

There was something in her tone that suggested she wasn't fine at all, but Jack didn't want to push his luck. She seemed snappier than usual this morning – and that could only be a bad sign.

It was a little over a month since Jack and Arcee had first met. It hadn't exactly been what either of them would call an ideal first encounter, what with the pursuing Vehicons and her death-defying leap into the drainage canal. The two of them were – to use Jack's mother's words – like _chalk and cheese_. Arcee's injuries during their sabotage of the Decepticon Space Bridge had melted some of their relationship's initial frostiness, as had the events that unfolded following Airachnid's arrival on Earth – but Jack could still sense a solid wall of detachment between himself and the female Autobot.

As the surrounding buildings grew less and less frequent in number, Jack recognised the treacherous throb in her curt reply. He had heard it before: he remembered standing in his garage on the night of their first meeting – attempting to offer his sympathy for the death of her friend, Cliffjumper. She had swiped his concern aside, demanding what he could possibly know about loss. Jack stared down at Arcee's dashboard as they left the suburbs in the dust, surprised. Was _that_ why she seemed so upset – was she still mourning her fallen partner?

Arcee tensed under his gaze, as though able to read his thoughts through those shocked organic eyes. She didn't like the way he was looking at her – the expression that suggested he knew what was wrong. Humans had a way of doing that, she'd noticed; they lacked diagnostic scanners, but could always tell what you were thinking. Taking her extended silence as a confirmation, Jack raised his eyes to the road – but paid no attention to what he was seeing.

"It's about Cliffjumper, isn't it?" he asked.

In her surprise, Arcee almost collided with the pickup ahead. "What are you talking about?" she shot, defensive, regaining her composure enough to incline her rear-views for a clearer look at the human.

Jack didn't reply at once, uncertain of how to approach the subject. "I… I think you're really brave, Arcee."

"_What?"_

"Even though you thought your friend was dead," he explained carefully. "You still rushed to try and save him, on the smallest chance that he was still alive. Not only that, but you try to stay strong even though he clearly meant a lot to you. I never knew the guy, but… I think he'd be really proud of you for those things."

"Proud?" Arcee repeated, pressing irritably on her accelerator. The human tightened his grip of her, panicking in response to the sudden burst of speed. "What do you know about anything, Jack? It's _my_ fault Cliff's offline."

"Okay – now it's my turn to ask _you_ what you're talking about," Jack replied uneasily.

"I could have saved him…" she hissed angrily, finally venting the thoughts that had consumed her processor for weeks. "If I'd just called Optimus as soon as Cliff detected that fraggin' energon deposit, we could have been there to help him fight the Decepticons. I should have held onto him when we found him in the mines – we could have brought him back to base and rebuilt his body… found a way to free him from the Dark Energon. Airachnid was right… it's _my fault_ he's dead!"

Jack chose not to speak for a while, watching instead as their surroundings grew more and more barren. The sand of the Nevada desert enveloped everything, a blanket of lifeless uniformity. At that moment, Arcee's feelings were very much like the sand; exposed, vulnerable to change, certain to shift in the slightest breeze. Jack knew that he had to say something – comfort her in some way – but exactly how could he, a sixteen-year-old human boy who'd never had a real girlfriend, hope to even begin understanding the turmoil inside of a female alien robot who had witnessed her partner disappear forever? He scowled internally, annoyed by his own doubts. That was wrong; Arcee wasn't just an 'alien robot' to him anymore, like she had been a month ago. She was a friend, someone he cared about – someone who needed his help.

"Look… scrap happens, Arcee," he muttered, lowering his gaze to the heads-up display on her dash. "Losing someone you care about is always painful… and it's only natural to try and ease the hurt by placing blame. Blaming yourself is the easiest option; it lessens the pain of loss by creating a different sort of ache. Humans call it _guilt._ But guilt is harder to soothe than loss; once you think that what happened is your own fault, it's hard to see it any other way. It eats away at you until you can't handle it anymore – no matter how strong you pretend to be."

"Spit it out already, for spark's-"

"What happened to your partner _wasn't_ your fault," the human cut, shaking his head as if to emphasise how strongly he believed his own words. Arcee fell silent, taken by his outburst. "The _Decepticons_ are the ones to blame. Arcee – don't beat yourself up about this. He – Cliffjumper… wouldn't want you to feel that way."

The towering rock formation that housed the entrance of the Autobot base loomed into view, a rigid column at the heart of the canyon in which the two suddenly found themselves. The road split abruptly into a fork, veering away from the column, but Arcee continued straight across the dirt – a wide panel of rock fell away to reveal the camouflaged entrance, blast doors sliding swiftly open to allow the Autobot and her passenger inside. The dimly-lit tunnel within led deeper into the base; Arcee followed its path without a word, enveloped in her whirling thoughts, and slowed to a halt several metres before the mouth of the command centre.

Jack dismounted carefully once she came to a complete stop, removing his helmet as the components of Arcee's vehicle mode began to rapidly shift and redistribute in a rhythmic transformation sequence. She straightened up beside him, almost tripling his height, but made no effort to head into the main room. Instead, she gave a heavy sigh and turned to face the worried-looking human. The cycle Transformer slowly dropped to one knee; she doubled over before her junior partner so that they were a little closer to eye-level, but found herself unable to meet his gaze.

"I'm… sorry if I was a little rough with you back there," she mumbled, staring awkwardly at the tunnel wall. "I must've just woken up on the wrong side of the berth this morning."

"No problem," the human replied brightly, giving a thumbs-up with his free hand.

The cheeriness of his reply caught her off-guard. "Jack…" she began. Why were humans always so unpredictable? Even after spending so much time with him, there was still an awful lot about this boy that she didn't understand – despite his apparent ability to read _her_ like a book.

Maybe Jack was right. Blaming herself for Cliff's death wouldn't accomplish anything – least of all bring him back. She couldn't dwell on the past forever; not when she herself had changed. The lone fact that she was allowing this human boy to glimpse at the feelings she previously tried so hard to conceal was proof enough of that.

Cliff, she thought; are you proud of me?

With a bemused shake of the head, Arcee allowed her faceplates to ease into a grateful smile. "Thank you, Jack."


End file.
